When Irish Eyes Are Smiling Ch. 04

“And this is Katie and Gabe,” Joel went on brightly. Was he missing the fact that his brothers and sisters already hated me? Smile still plastered to my face, I turned to the other two.

Katie was the youngest next to Joel, also the shortest, which made her the only one shorter than me. Her long hair was a dark auburn, and her face softer, less angular than her siblings’ were. That might have been due to the fact that she was some seven months pregnant. She was the only one to offer me a tentative smile.

Then there was Gabe.

A few nights back, while stretched out on Joel’s couch, my head in his lap, I’d boastfully mentioned that I’d been on both my high school and college wrestling teams and asked if he’d wrestled.

“I’m gay,” he’d responded, “of course I wrestled in high school. How else was I going to get my hands on all those hunky straight boys?”

I’d laughed.

“Bet I can pin you,” he’d said then, a lazy, cocky challenge. Well, there was no backing down from that. We moved the coffee table, stripped down to our underwear and went at it. There were some very sexy moments, like when Joel kept me from scoring on him by maintaining a tripod position. He deliberately ground his firm ass against my crotch as I tried to press him down. I called foul No arousing moves.

I got back at him by hooking his knee and getting us leg locked.

Naturally, I presumed that I’d out-wrestle him and I did get him down, time and again, but he managed to escape every hold! Every nelson, headlock and bear hug. Professionally or for fun, I’d never wrestled anyone able to contort or wiggle away so quickly. Finally, he trapped me in an embarrassing and very erotic face pin.

“Where the fuck did you learn to wrestle like that?” I panted, staring at the bulge in his shorts, inches from my nose. Spots of excitement were appearing on the cotton.

“My older brother Gabe,” Joel said. He was leaning over me, holding tight to my wrists. His chest hair was slick with sweat and drops of it were falling from his face onto mine. “He liked to wrestle and pin me down. Every time I learned to escape a hold, he came up with a new one. By high school, I could slip out of anything.”

“Sounds like a nasty kid,” I said uncertainly. As an only child, sibling relations were a mystery to me.

“Are you kidding?” He finally rolled off to lie on the carpet beside me, which ought to have been a relief, but left me strangely disappointed. “Gabe taught me how to swim, and ride a bike, throw darts. He took me to my first rock concert, gave me my first taste of whiskey, and showed me my first porn movie. He got me so drunk on my sixteenth birthday I threw up all over the inside of his Charger, and then on Pop when Gabe dragged me into the house.” Joel smiled fondly. “Other big brothers use to shoo away their little brothers, but Gabe always let me tag along, and the bullies in the neighborhood never touched me because they knew if they did Gabe would beat the shit out of them. He was the best.”

So, here I was at last, face to face with the legendary Gabe. He was auburn haired like Katie, but the red highlights were more noticeable, they burned like fire in the sunlight. His face was squarer than his brothers’ were, as was his build; there was muscle under that maroon shirt, hard muscle. I half expected a crushing handshake from that broad hand, but he was surprisingly careful. His eyes were hard as peridots and never broke from mine.

“Nice to meet you, Devlin,” Gabe said for all of them.

Yeah. Right.

The band finished off its set, and voices filled in the gap. The place was wall-to-wall people.

“WELCOME!” a shout from the fireplace. “And thank ye all for coming. If I can have a minute of your time?” The voice was very like Joel’s, clear and lyrical, only with an Irish accent. “This is a very special day for the O’ Shaughnessy family.”

“We’d better get up there,” John said, and the siblings pushed their way forward to join a balding, older man at the fireplace. I’d expected Joel to take after his dad, but the old man was neither tall nor lean. He was solid, with a fringe of fiery red hair, paling to orange and white. Only Gabe had inherited that square face and solid body. But the old man’s green eyes were familiar; warm and playful, just like Joel’s.

It was his wife, Joel’s mother, who’d passed on the stunning bone structure and height to her children. She was taller than her husband, a slender, elegant woman with silver streaks in her ebony hair.

The siblings had just stepped up when a bespectacled fellow, a fawn-haired woman, and a willowy young man joined them. Spouses undoubtedly. Seven kids came with them. They ranged from around sixteen to six and were all dark haired save for the littlest, a redheaded boy standing at Gabe’s knee. Every single one of them shared granddad’s green eyes.

The family arranged themselves under a large, gold banner with the familiar Go n'eiri an t-adh leat! wish upon it.

It was odd to see such a clan. Family holidays for me meant a restful vacation with Mom and Dad in whatever country they were residing. I wondered what such holidays would be like with Joel’s family.

“Is that everyone?” the patriarch asked, and the room chuckled. “Right then.” His hands went into his pockets, as if preparing to tell a story. “Let me start over. Thank ye all for coming.”

“Couldn’t miss out on the free food!” someone yelled. More laughter.

“S’not free, Freddy-me-lad!” Dad retorted. “You’ve got to listen to my speech. Now where was I. Ah, yes. When Ula and I first started this pub back in ’65, I had this chauvinistic idea that my son, Johnny,” a wave over to his eldest, “would take up the reigns when I retired. One day, John came home from high school and told me that he and his friends were learning how to program computers. I told him there was no future in that.”

Laughter, and a wry smirk from John. Dad shrugged with good-natured chagrin.

“Still,” he went on, “even when it came clear that running a pub wasn’t for Johnny, I thought sure one of the other boys would want to walk in my shoes. We O’ Shaughnessys can be a stubborn lot, but once you convince us, you convince us. Eventually I got it through my thick skull that it was Rosie who always stayed after hours. And it was Rosie had all the good ideas, like serving up a Sunday brunch, or having Thursday dart night. And live music, too. Thing is, Rosie’s always had her Irish eye on Irish Eyes. She was even mercenary enough to marry our bookkeeper so the pub wouldn’t lose him.”

A louder laugh and Rosie’s bespectacled husband ducked his head.

“It’s long past time Ula and I let her and Matthew sail this ship, while we sit out on the deck and enjoy the cruise.” A grinning Mr. O’ Shaughnessy put his arm about his wife and lifted a waiting beer glass off the fireplace mantle. “So I’ll end with this blessing we got from our families when we left Ireland for our new life in America. I can’t think of a better or more proper wish for us all on this particular day: May you always have walls for the winds, a roof for the rain, tea beside the fire, laughter to cheer you, those you love near you—and all your heart might desire. Go maire sibh bhur saol nua.”

“Go maire sibh bhur saol nua,” everyone echoed and, those with drinks, toasted and drank. There were hugs all around, and the band started up again with a lively jig. Joel waved me over and I got through the crush. He introduced me to his parents.

“This is an amazing place, sir, ma’am,” I said shaking their hands. “I’m in awe of all you’ve done.”

“Well, thank ye, thank ye very much,” Dad said. He seemed reticent, but this was hardly the best time for a get-to-know-you. His handshake was warm enough. Mom—Mom had eyes so blue as to be almost indigo, and they were gazing at me as if peeling back layers of skin.

“Devlin,” Joel’s father said as if testing the name. “So you’re Irish?”

“Typical, American mongrel, actually. Danish mostly, with some French and Russian mixed in. But I’ve been told that my Christian name came from a distant and infamous ancestor who was both Irish and a bit of a scoundrel.”

That seemed to amuse and please the old man. Joel and I excused ourselves, letting the hosts have their turn with other guests.

“Let’s plate up,” he said getting us back to the buffet, “I’m starving.”

So was I. We heaped on food, and I managed to find an empty seat at one of the picnic tables outside while Joel fetched drinks. A beer for me, and a scotch on the rocks for him.

“So what did that last part of the blessing mean?”

“Go maire sibh bhur saol nua?” He took a bite of corned beef doused in creamy horseradish sauce. “May you enjoy your new life.”

“Nice.” We tried to eat, but were interrupted repeatedly as friends and old time patrons came by to chat with Joel and exchange gossip. Eventually, his nieces and nephews got hold of him and dragged him off, insisting that he play darts with them.

“Go on,” I urged as they pulled at his hands, and called him “Uncle Joel.” I didn’t really mind being left alone for a bit. The food was good and the beer was excellent, so dark it was almost black with a rich, frothy head.

“Mind if I sit down?” It was Katie.

“Please,” I urged her, half rising. “Need any help?”

“No, no.” She settled awkwardly at the end of the bench, carefully adjusting her protruding belly. “I’m fine really. It’s just hard to navigate this wide load. Enjoying yourself?”

I settled back down. “Everything’s delicious and I love the music.”

“Good.” There followed a moment of awkward silence between us.

“Joel says you’re an artist?” I felt my face warm as I said this, remembering how I’d told Joel at our first dinner that artists were passionate lovers. Had I’d known his sister was one—

“Painting and photography.”

“Are those your pictures inside?” I’d been trying to be polite, but now I perked with interest. “They’re fantastic. I mean, really fantastic.”

She blushed. “You’re just saying that.”

“I’m not. You’ve got the eye. Have you ever had a gallery showing?”

“Not yet. I’ve been trying to arrange one, but I don’t have that many contacts—”

“My ex was an artist. I’ll get some names from her and pass them on to Joel.”

“Thank you.” She was quite stunned, though I wasn’t sure why. After a moment she ventured, “We weren’t real welcoming back there, were we?” I started to wave her off, but she ploughed on, “You’ve got to understand, Joel has only brought one other guy around to meet the family, which means he must be serious about you. As serious as he was about Eric, and that didn’t end well.”

Eric. I’d almost forgotten about the text message I’d blithely erased. “Joel hasn’t said much about Eric.”

“Talking about Eric, huh?” Gabe unexpectedly sat down in Joel’s vacated spot. I‘m not sure how he’d snuck up on us. He had a half-empty beer in his hand, and challenge in his eyes. He said Eric’s name as if it were something foul he wanted to spit out.

“Gabe—” Katie looked uneasy. “Keep your voice down—”

“Yeah, yeah.” He leaned in, speaking confidentially, “I’ll tell you about Eric. He was blond haired and blue-eyed. Sound familiar? He was smart and funny, and we all thought he was as devoted to Joel as Joel was to him. Then, one evening, Joel comes home from work to find Eric gone. No goodbyes, no explanation, just a note. Three years together and Eric dumps him for a punk barely out of high school.”

He slammed a fist down on the table.

“That’s enough, Gabe.” Katie never raised her voice, but there was steel in it. I imagine it was how their mother spoke. “What if you brought a girl for us to meet and we told her all about Fiona? How would you like it?”

Gabe took a draft of his beer, a long swallow, and then stood up. “I’m telling him for his sake, not Joel’s. Because you know, Katie, you know, if Eric were ever to return, all contrite and sorry, Joel would take him back in a red-hot second. He’ll leave his new love for old faithful, even though Eric shattered his heart to pieces. You can bet on it.”

He strode away. I felt—I don’t know what I felt. Like I’d just had the rug pulled out from under me, like I’d just been kicked in the nuts. My heart was racing, and my throat was dry with fear. Joel leave me? He couldn’t leave me. I hadn’t done anything to deserve it yet.

“He’s wrong,” Katie said earnestly. “He’s thinking about himself, not Joel. The break between him and his wife was bad, and almost all of it was his fault. Gabe’s like that. He messes things up then realizes what he’s done too late and regrets it. If he gets a second chance, he’ll more than make up for it, but sometimes he doesn’t get a second chance.”

That sounded familiar. “They are hard to come by,” I agreed.

“Hey,” Joel appeared. “You two better not be gossiping about me.”

“No,” his sister said, with such aplomb I almost believed her. “We’re talking about me. Devlin likes my photographs. So there.” She stuck her tongue out at him, then patted my hand and accepted Joel’s help in getting to her feet. “It was good to meet you, Devlin. I hope we see you again soon.”

“They’re about to serve the cake,” Joel said. “What say we have some, then make our farewells and get out of here?”

I forced myself to smile. “You just want to play with my suspenders.”